


Not Pretty Enough To Get Me On My Knees

by xSheepie



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Anal Play, Drabble, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Hurt, M/M, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:17:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7579120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xSheepie/pseuds/xSheepie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>K and Ronan meet in an alley and things get hot. K thinks he'd top; too bad Lynch is stronger. And a bit of a freak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Pretty Enough To Get Me On My Knees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kavinnskyy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kavinnskyy/gifts).



“You may be pretty. But I don’t bottom.” Kavinsky gave Ronan’s left cheek two sarcastic pats.

  
Ronan wanted to step back but he knew he couldn’t even though his skin felt itchy where K had touched him and where he looked, his eyes moving behind tinted glass. He held his ground even though it felt like something was clawing at his stomach.

  
“You’ll bottom, and you’ll like it.” Ronan growled, pushing forward with his body until K was flat against the peeling posters on the grimy wall. This felt wrong, so wrong but he only knew how to crush his lips against K’s, fighting with teeth and lips and tongue instead of words and looks and burning rubber. He couldn't go home to Gansey like this, couldn't fall into Adams tiny bed with thorns sticking out of his palms, couldn't sleep under the stars at the Barns with destruction seeping from his pores. To erratic for the first, dangerous for the second, to sad for the third. Somehow it had come to this; trying to force himself against Joseph Kavinsky, ramming their broken edges together, vainly hoping they could make something that made even an ounce of sense.

  
K’s thin body writhed under Ronan as he ground his hips against K’s bonier ones, their cocks trapped between layers of clothes. Ronan’s left hand wandered down and into the taller boys’ pants. Hastily, he started to jerk him off and K’s head fell back with a sharp crack against the wall. Ronan rubbed K’s head with this thumb, feeling pre-cum ooze of out the slit and soon he was cumming into Ronan’s fist, mouth slack and breath heavy. Ronan rubbed at the oversensitive appendage several more times- almost getting punched in the head for his effort- before pulling his hand out of K’s pants.

  
“Fuck off. Fuck.” Kavinsky swore. Ronan examined his hand in the dim light and then gave it an experimental lick, not being able to decide if the salty-bitter flavor was something he could get used to- or wanted to. “Jesus. I knew that Catholic mouth could do something productive.” Kavinsky said with a leer, watching Ronan as he cleaned off his hand.

  
He cocked his head to the side, confused because the words lack the heat they might have once contained. He shook the feeling off and shoved K’s jeans down just enough and turned him. He hitched him up against the wall, rutting against Kavinskys’ bare ass, rough denim against heated flesh. He spit on his hand- mixing with the leftover spunk- and rubbed at the twitching hole, pushing a finger in quickly and then drawing away until K was pushing back onto his thick digits with need. He entered him slowly, sitting for a minute, staring at the back of Kavinsky’s inky hair, curling in the heat. There was sweat beading along his neck. _Stop thinking,_ Ronan ordered himself and in a second he was pounding into the Bulgarian, one hand wrapped loosely around K’s limp cock, milking it.

  
Kavinsky’s body twitched violently against Ronan who was snapping his hips at a breathtaking pace. Ronan pulled out and shoved him to the ground. Kavinsky  gave a disgruntled, “fuckin’ hell” as his knees hit the pavement. Ronan came down on him like a bird of prey, lining up and going back at it, the sound falling from K’s lips like the Holy Scripture to his ears. His fingers scrabbled against the broken concrete and he dropped his head down between them, murmuring encouragement.

  
Ronan could see people walked past the alley and Ronan faltered for a minute before he came with a grunt. (Ronan was pretty sure that was supposed to make him happy, it didn't). He pulled out and watched as cum dribbled out of Kavinsky’s hole. K's sides were heaving, his ribs dancing in the weak light. Ronan drew his hand down K's trembling back, pushed his thumb against his reddened hole, pushing his seed back into the waifish boy. K pulled away from him, using the wall to stand up, groaning as he yanked his pants into place and straightened his shirt from where it had been pushed up around his neck.

  
He looked down at Ronan who had fallen back on his heels, lit by the moon, looking up at Kavinsky, lost. Kavinsky lit a cig, took a long draw of the sour smoke and flicked ash at the fighter on his knees. They stared at each other for a while. Neither were sure what they were waiting for. Whatever it was, it didn't happen. “Well, it was real.” Kavinsky turned and started to walk away, acutely aware of Ronan’s eyes on the back of his head and of the cum dripping down his thighs. He tossed the cig against the wall and rounded the corner, the sound of his shoes fading as quickly as the sparks.

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh this is just my beautiful boys being hurt and confused and so fucking depressed and helpless and trying to gain some fucked up sense of control in a world they had no choice in. Please comment if you liked it or have a new idea for me, I'm sort of tapped creatively right now.


End file.
